And for the SDA commenters who picked up on my line about strip clubs, here’s a NSFW repost (with apologies for the lousy visual quality, but the old video was pulled for a copyright violation. The audio is still good):Note that there seem to be more rules about how men are supposed to behave inside a strip club than there are outside one, making such venues arguably more civilized (and reflective of “unfair” biological realities) than many others where men and women interact.

(Note, too, as I did the first time, the “don’t touch the dancers” rule violation. And if there’s something you’ve always wondered about, here’s one answer — audio NSFW.)

The most important thing to understand about men’s interest in women, is that from an Alpha = Attraction = Dopamine standpoint, it’s almost entirely a visual experience. Men have a decent sized part of their brains hardwired to assess nearby women for their beauty, perceived fertility, high sex drive and suspected ovulation.

Men don’t just look at women; men assess them visually as potential mates. If a man looks at a woman and sees a woman exhibiting beauty, fertility and who is possibly/probably ovulating, his body gives him a shot of dopamine as a behavioral reward/incentive to do something about it and get over there and make a move on her.

The longer he looks at her, the more of a dopamine shot he’ll get. It’s positively addictive to men look at highly attractive women. That dopamine surge is why they stare at you so much. It’s an amazing and heady experience looking at a truly beautiful woman in her prime. (…)

So why do you go our to your job wearing lipstick and nice tops… and come home to your husband, wipe off the lipstick and put on a sweatshirt? How’s that working out for you?

Not that I object to low dresses — or even to an utter absence of dress, when the unveiling reveals attractions which the eye of the artist loves as something shapely and beautiful. I have an instinctive and cultivated knowledge of what physical beauty is, and anything in direct violation of my taste and knowledge—like your picture,—simply sickens me.